To The Motherland
by Ice Spectre
Summary: [CHALLENGE] November 1928. The world is in chaos. The war has ended and Hitler is coming into power. Lenin is dead and Stalin rules Russia with terror. The Imperial Theatre seems unconcerned, until a letter arrives for one of them.
1. Never Fully Free

**SAKURA TAISEN/WARS** and all related characters, names and indicia are TM & © SEGA RED, and are used here without permission. 

_Author's Note: This is written in answer three of four challenges I've received, and will be a bit more epic, I think, than I'd originally intended! I'm afraid I shouldn't tell you what the challenges are, or I'll spoil what's in store :) I will write this the way I wrote "From The Ashes," posting chapters as I finish them, and hopefully not leaving you hanging for too long. I am very afraid of historical continuity errors and such, but I am doing it anyway, so please do tell me if you catch something I miss. I am, admittedly, not expert in the Lenin/Stalin regime.  
_

Rated: PG, so far… Keep an eye on future chapters' ratings, I will rate them as I write and warn of any possible questionable content.

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To The Motherland

"Never Fully Free"

"Maria!!! Yo, **MARIA!!!**" Kanna called up the stairs to the top floor of the Imperial Theatre which had been home to the two oldest members of the Hanagumi for just over six years now. Then she paused, her hands on both railings, and listened for a reply.

Nothing.

The extraordinarily tall redhead took the steps up two at a time, propelling herself by the railings, and reaching the top floor in a matter of seconds. Down the darkened and rarely-used hallways, she called again. No response.

Kanna knew how Maria could get lost in books, and she went straight to the library. Instead of continuing to call, though, she opened the door quietly. Startling Maria when she was sleeping or deep in concentration was often a terrible mistake – her Enfield revolver was never far from her hand. The door swung open to reveal the library – a huge room with a slanted ceiling and high windows. Hazy shafts of blue light filtered through from the gray and overcast sky outside, and motes of dust swam lazily in the air. Kanna crept inside as if she expected to find a ghost, and searched the aisles. Then she found her.

Maria sat with her back to Kanna on top of a tall rolling ladder in the back aisle of the library. If she had heard Kanna enter, she showed no sign. Kanna went to the foot of the ladder and stopped, looking up at her friend. Maria's head was lowered, her short, fair hair curtained her eyes. Her shoulders were slumped and the slate blue of the blouse she wore matched the weather outside. Her shoulder holster seemed to weigh down on her, as if it were a burden she was weary of carrying. In her hands was a letter and an envelope on formal-looking parchment. Kanna could tell from Maria's posture and stillness that it could not be good news.

Slowly, Kanna climbed the ladder and knelt on the step below Maria's feet. When she reached that proximity, Maria began to shiver, her arms stiffening and the paper trembling in her hands.

"Maria? Maria, hey…" Kanna put her hands on Maria's knees and softly hushed her, and with a quick huff of breath, the Russian had composed herself and lifted her head again, squaring her shoulders with a heavy sigh, and met Kanna's eyes with her own icy gaze. Kanna's violet eyes gleamed with sympathy, "Maria, what's wrong?"

In lieu of a verbal answer, which Maria did not seem capable of making at the moment, she handed the letter to Kanna. Kanna accepted it and looked at it, then squinted. "Um… it's… it's in Russian, I… I can't read it." But she looked at the letters of the red and gold embossed crest regardless. Those letters were English, but she knew a little English. "NKVD…. OGPU? What is that?"

Maria's voice was nothing more than a whisper. "Russian secret police…" she replied, raking her fingers into her hair to clear it from her eyes for a moment, then letting it fall back as she gazed over Kanna's shoulder at some indiscriminate point in the distance, as if seeing things which were not there.

Kanna picked the envelope up from Maria's lap and turned it over. The postmark was dated 18 November 1928, which was only two weeks ago. "What do they want? I mean… how did they even know you were here? Why are they writing to you?"

"Russia has spies all over, Kanna, particularly here in Japan after the war. My father used to be important, and he fell out of favour. They keep their eyes on people who could cause trouble one day."

"Like you?" Kanna asked, gently, laying the papers back in Maria's lap and climbing one step higher to kneel on either side of her feet to be eye-to-eye with the markswoman.

"Like my father, at least. Yes."

"So what do they want from you now? I mean… you were exiled, what… twenty years ago?"

"Twenty-four."

"Geez… what could they possibly want with someone who was an infant when they last were considered a citizen of Russia?"

"I was never really considered a citizen. I was the bastard daughter of a diplomat and his Japanese fling. But under Lenin, the mere fact that I was born in Russia was enough to make me a citizen. Unfortunately, he came into power as I was leaving for New York. I fought to put him in power, Kanna, and Russia crumbled under his rule…"

Kanna grew mildly impatient. Russia, as far as she knew, was a country continually at war with itself, its rulers idealists with pipe dreams about sharing and loving and no basis in reality at all, a land so covered with snow and ice and so barred from the sun that its people were sour and bitter and jaded and sad, ALL of the time. Of course it was crumbling. What Kanna wanted to know was why Russia was sending a letter to someone it banished when she was only a year old?

"Lenin is dead," Maria continued and Kanna blinked in surprise. "Stalin is in power now. Joseph Stalin, who used to be a revolutionary like us, the son of a poor man, just like one of us... He was in charge of the Cheka, and he has changed its name to the OGPU."

"Wait… Cheka?" Kanna was lost.

"Lenin's secret police. It was run by Stalin. Joseph Stalin…." Maria's gaze reluctantly refocused on Kanna's with a weight that seemed to carry with it the horror Maria's mind was witnessing, "…is _not_ a good man. He betrayed his loyalty to the Bolsheviks to spare himself Lenin's wrath, and was made Commissar of Nationalities so quickly Lenin said he was dizzy."

"What in the world is a Commissar of Nationalities?"

"He was in charge of all the 'non-Russian' citizens, all the Ukranians, Georgians, etc. In years previous, he was in and out of Siberia due to exile very frequently. He mocked Lenin's ideals and rules with an iron fist. Trotsky was Stalin's opponent, and he was arrested, exiled and deported. Stalin even told Trotsky the wrong date for Lenin's funeral, so he would not be able to attend. He rules by terror, Kanna."

"Aren't you Ukranian?"

Maria nodded. "I was born in Kiev."

"So Stalin was in charge of you?"

Maria nodded again, "Except that I was already in New York, and then in Japan. I thought they believed me dead. But now Stalin is in charge of everything."

Kanna looked at the letter again as if it were suddenly bladed, as if the double-headed eagle were egraved into a knife instead of into parchment. "Do they know about you? I mean, about everything?"

Maria nodded once, very slowly. Everything. Her years in the Volga Third Regiment, her years in New York in the Mafia, her years here… as an actress… and they knew of her work for the Imperial Army and her time as captain of her division, all of it. They knew all of it.

Kanna repeated her question again, this time dreading the answer thoroughly. "So… what do they want with you?"

"To work as a spy in the Japanese division of the OGPU."

Kanna bristled. "You're being asked to go work for a tyrant with no regard for even his own people, to spy on OUR country?! Tell them no!"

"It isn't a request, Kanna... I've been drafted. They are coming for me."

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	2. Home Is Where The Heart Is

SAKURA TAISEN/WARS and all related characters, names and indicia are TM © SEGA RED, and are used here without permission.

_Author's Note: Credit for much of the information on how exiles to Siberia are handled goes to Lithuanian exile Laima Guzeviiut Udavinien, whose story gave me almost all my information._

Rating: PG-13 (for vivid descriptions of the process of exile transport)

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**To The Motherland**

"Home Is Where The Heart Is"

The sound of the impact of Kanna's fist against the support boards of the bookshelf coincided with a broken cry that was half rage, half grief, all tinged with the power that only Kanna weilds. The moveable stair rolled back on its casters, causing Maria to grip the hand rails and brace her feet, dropping the commission parchment and envelope. The bookcase Kanna had struck creaked and toppled, falling only to a 45 degree angle, stopped by the far wall. Hundreds of books slipped through the open shelves and cascaded to the floor, settling under an eruption of dust scented of aged paper and deteriorating canvas and leather. The parchment and envelope fluttered to the ground beneath the stairs, at the edge of the avalanche of literature.

Kanna scrubbed her eyes with her open palms, calming herself again and hiding any emotion she might betray. She had already lost Sumire almost two years ago when she retired from the Hanagumi, she could not lose another. She exhaled and forced herself to drop her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Maria…" she whispered, muffled through her hands, then lowered her hands to look at her friend.

Maria was not looking at her. She was kneeling on the top platform of the moveable staircase, sitting back on her heel. Her other foot was two steps down. Her arms spread wide, braced against both rails, like a catburglar on the fire escapes of a building she'd just robbed. Except Maria's expression, thrown into a film noir relief by the gray light of the now unblocked window, was one of almost childlike horror. And she was staring at the pile of books that had fallen.

"Maria?" Kanna climbed the two remaining steps in a flash and knelt down around the Russian, taking her shoulders, but Maria's fists, white-knuckled, would not release the rails. "Maria… what happened?" Kanna tried to turn Maria's face to her gently, but Maria was as rigid as iron, as cold as ice. Kanna might as well not be there at all.

"Why?" Maria whispered, distantly, and not to Kanna.

_The bookshelf creaked away from the wall where it stood in the study and fell, scattering a tide of books and papers across the woven rug. "Astarozhna, darogu!" a uniformed soldier commanded to the little girl standing in the center of the rug, too shocked to weep. She could not have been two years old. Her father knelt down and swept the small girl into his arms, carrying her into the foyer of his study as the soldiers toppled the remainder of his bookshelves and emptied his desk into lockboxes._

_"Papa…!"_

_"Shhh, Maria… it's all right. We will find another home. All of us. As long as we are all together, everything will be all right. You will s—"_

_A sharp scream came from a room down the hall and Bryusov Dimitrovich rose quickly to his feet. The sound of the shatter of glass followed and a stream of reproaches in eloquent Japanese. "Suma! Maria, stay here—" _

_But Dimitrovich did not need to go after his wife, she cam running out into the hall. "The vase, Bryusov! My grandfather's vase!" Another glass-shatter sound made Suma shriek and cover her eyes._

_He comforted his wife. She was not so trivial, he knew – despite the fact that these heirlooms were more than just objects to her, they were ancestry, they were spiritual. But even beyond that, he knew her to be too strong to weep over the destruction of these things. The shattering of her heritage was the most illustrative metaphor to Suma, the breaking of her life, the ruining of their security, their exile, and all because Dimitrovich fell in love with the enemy._

_Exile is not a simple relocation. Dimitrovich had been found to be traitorous, and not just because of his 'marriage,' but his very un-noble-like disagreement with many of the Czar's recent activities – and inactivities – particularly concerning his own common people and the broadening gap between the elite and the destitute. There would be no time for preparation. A truck pulled up to the street where Dimitrovich's townhome stood in a richer section of Kiev. Several soldiers with rifles had the decency to wait for Suma's handmaiden to open the door rather than kicking it in. Czar Nicholas' official read the document aloud as the soldiers rounded up the members of the household. Maria would never forget her nurse's scream, even though she was only a year and a half old at the time._

_One of the soldiers pointed at Suma. "Pack what you think your family will need for a long journey, but wait until we've finished searching the house. We will inspect what you choose. It must weigh no more than 120 kilos."_

_Three bedspread were laid out on the floor and filled with boots and clothing, pillows and a few books, three of which the soldiers took away. A trunk was filled with food by Suma's handmaiden – cheese, bread, potatoes, anything that would fit and not be too heavy. Much of it was bread. Glass and porcelain jugs of milk were too heavy, they would subsist on water. Maria could not even bring her doll. Her nurse hushed her the instant Maria's face seemed to tend toward tears. "You have to learn to be strong, now, dear," the old woman said. "Strong and wise and proud, to help your mother and father." And so she did not weep, her initial attempt to comply with the words she would never forget her nurse telling her._

_They were leaving tonight, and being taken away from home and family and neighbours in the backs of army vehicles, never to return. This is something Maria could not possibly comprehend, but she recalled the details with a painful sharpness. She remembered the spiralled gleam of the inside of rifle barrels as they lead Bryusov and Suma down the stairs of their townhome toward the open and waiting back of a military truck. Bryusov was handcuffed, and Suma was carrying Maria. Maria remembered how cold it was._

_…she hadn't seen anything yet._

_The trucks stopped at the train station, crowding the still-shackled Bryusov and his family into a cattle car of the Trans-Siberian Railway, along with a surprising number of other families whose only commonality was, presumably, some offense against the Czar. Suma sat on the bundle of their clothing with Maria cradled in her arms, and Bryusov attempted some comfortable position nearby, his hands still twisted behind his back._

_Colder and colder it grew as they travelled along the Trans-Siberian Railway toward the icy tundra. So cold that Maria believed she would never be warm again. And this became true._

_It was more than a day before food was brought to them, warily and angrily, as if they were dangerous animals in cages who might kill or escape. Days passed, though Maria did not know how many – the windows of the cattle car were boarded up, and the hazy overcast outside made night and day almost indiscernible. A hole was cut in the floor of the wooden car to be used as a toilet. They were careful not to make it large enough even for a small child to slip through. Many became sick from the contaminated water they were given to drink. Due to weather and other delays, the trip took just under a month, Maria was later told by her parents. _

_One family in the car held an infant much younger than Maria, perhaps only a few months. The conditions were too severe for the child, and sadly, he died. The soldiers took the child from its grieving mother and threw his body into the woods along the tracks._

_Suma was so horrified that it took all her will for Maria not to meet the same fate. _

_Maria grew to know no sadder, lonlier sound than the hollow, mournful wail of a steam engine's whistle._

"We gotta tellYoneda!" Kanna released Maria and turned to run down the stairs, but Maria snapped out of it and grabbed a fist full of the back of Kanna's collar with surprising strength. "Erk!"

"No!" Maria's eyes flashed with desperation. "Do not get anyone else involved."

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**_Responses to Reviews:_**

_Dillian: No no – no fainting ;) And don't take my word on Russian history for gospel truth… I am piece-mealing information together!_

_Hesquidor – Oh drat… an expert… (hides) I'm bound to make a dozen mistakes before this is through, two of them I'm planning on PURPOSELY making already, just because history does not do what I would have liked it to do to fit my plans ;) Mostly in New York, though, so perhaps you won't notice! Gomen-nasai!_

_Huntress – Love you too ;)_


	3. Something To Talk About

SAKURA TAISEN/WARS and all related characters, names and indicia are TM & © SEGA and are used here without permission.

_Author's Note: This fiction has fallen in the middle of deep audition season, and I will be slow in updating, I apologize. Thank you to all who are reading and reviewing and emailing, I will try to give little bits and pieces as I can._

Rated: PG-13 for innuendo

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**To The Motherland**

_Give Them Something To Talk About_

"What happened?" Kaede's eyes were wide.

"Is everyone all right?" Sakura dashed into the library past Kaede, and Iris lingered behind, lifting an eyebrow at the disaster against the far wall.

"We're fine," Kanna answered, somewhat sheepishly. Reni bent down beside Sakura and silently began to pick up the books which had slid under the shelf so it could be righted.

Orihime smirked. "_Dio di pieta!_ Kanna, Maria, what exactly were you doing to cause such a mess?"

Unnoticed, Maria slipped the commission letter quickly into her pocket, covering the gesture by adjusting the holster on her shoulders.

Kohran adjusted her glasses on her nose and chuckled. "Wow. A huge bang in the theatre and it isn't my fault. Kanna, were you and Maria fighting?" the engineer's eyebrows furrowed at the remote possibility.

"Uh…" Kanna was not prepared with a lie, and would not dare break Maria's confidence. At least, not so quickly, and not with Maria standing right there, with her gun. Maria had commanded Kanna not to get anyone else involved. After all, if this Russian Secret Police was enough to worry Maria, it must be pretty deadly.

"I don't think they call that 'fighting,'" Orihime whispere conspiritorially to Sakura, who blinked as if she could not imagine what Orihime was getting at. Maria clenched her jaw. If she did one thing before retiring from the Hanagumi, it would be to dispell the rumour that she and Kanna were anything more than the best of friends and founding members.

"WHAT the…? How in the world did THAT happen!" Yoneda gripped his head in stun from where he stood in the library door. Maria busied herself picking up books. Kanna frowned. Sure, silence from Maria was expected and rarely questioned. Now Kanna was left to explain the situation alone. Though… Kanna had been the one to knock over a bookcase…

"I, uh… I… I leaned against it… and…" Kanna stumbled.

"One person leaning against a bookcase of that size couldn't possibly knock it over!" Orihime persisted. "Even someone of your size, Kanna! But, if you AND Maria were leaning against it… and leaning kind of heavily if you know what I m—"

"ORIHIME!" Kanna flushed as crimson as her tank top, an angry humiliation.

"You're blushing! That's a sure sign th—_mmmf!_" Reni covered Orihime's mouth with her hand and shook her head, frowning the way only the Wunderkind could. Orihime fell silent, but pouted dejectedly, bereft of her moment of revelation.

The rest of an hour passed in silence, the only conversation regarding who had which particular stack of books and where which book should be set into the shelves. Four girls and Yoneda managed to stand the bookcase back up gently, so it did not topple in the opposite direction and start a domino effect. Iris, still the smallest even at age fifteen, sat up on the top of the shelf to replace the highest books.

No one questioned Kanna or Maria any further about how the bookcase had fallen, though several were not satisfied with Kanna's explanation that she'd leaned on it. Especially after it took five of them, Kanna and Maria included, to stand the bookcase back up – empty. Knocking it over full would have taken a fight brutal enough to hospitalize Maria, or some other situation similarly brutal enough to hospitalize Maria. Since Maria was uninjured, everyone else was left confused. Kanna would have had to have been 'leaning' with some serious intent. Kohran kept studying the top of the bookcase, undoubtedly mapping a blueprint in her mind of where Kanna's charted maximum force would need to be applied to knock it over. Then Kohran glanced at the rolling staircase, and gave a short nod, having apparently explained the mechanics in her mind to her own satisfaction. Reason was unimportant to the engineer, just plausibility.

Kanna caught Orihime studying her and Maria from time to time, trying to deduce what was going on between them, but neither was talking. It was without a doubt, though, from Maria's avoidance and Kanna's discomfort that there was a huge and juicy secret there. Orihime just had to invent what it was. Kanna, whose life is normally an open book, was writhing under the strain of a very frightening secret and what she was sure was every member of the Hanagumi examining her and concluding that she and Maria were in the middle of some illicit act. It would just be so much easie rto tell them the truth – that she had been furious that someone was daring to put Maria's life in danger again, but she had an order from her commander and best friend to keep silent. After all, it's possible that just telling the rest of the Hanagumi about Maria's commission could put them at risk as well.

Kanna glanced at Maria. The Russian was sitting on the floor at the foot of the bookcase with a stack of books, setting them back on the shelf in order. Kanna imagined Maria was regretting telling even her best friend about the commission, now. Or maybe she wasn't feeling anything at all. After all, look at her.

Maria was functioning just as she always did, doing what was needed, doing as she was told, keeping silent, and showing nothing. There was something fascinating about the implacable façade her friend wore at almost all times. Kanna had seen it break, many times – and occasionally even been the reason for it breaking – but it was always mended and donned again. To look at her now, though, one would never know the depts of sorrow and heights of rage of which she was capable, not to mention the bouts of deep laughter and the way her eyes light up in joy like moonlight on snow. She did not look capable of those things. Maria was like a calm sea, so beautiful and still until a deadly storm arises.

To the untrained eye, Maria looked physically almost frail. Though Kanna was aware that nearly everyone female was frail compared to herself. To know that the delicatedly maintained composure and beauty could kill was an anomoly to Kanna that deserved the attention of a great puzzle. Kanna had seen Maria in the cockpit of her Koubu, uniformed and bellowing orders, her cannon exploding a burst of ice at every foe, turning to the next before the previous body had even hit the ground. Kanna had seen Maria on the stage at the theatre, in a white and gold military dress uniform with epaulets, gloves and a cane, looking every bit the dashing hero.

But this here was also Maria, the feminine young woman sitting on the floor with her legs bent to one sid, supported by her left hand as her right hand replaced books on the bottom shelf, her hair draped over half of her face. One title caught her attention and she opened the cover, and Kanna chuckled softly, having caught the soldier 'goofing off' even if only for a total of forty-five seconds.

Then Kanna realized that Orihime was watching her studying Maria, with what she must certainly interpret as a loving look. Kanna quickly looked away, blushing furiously and raking a hand through her tousled mop of red hair. A sideward glance caught Orihime's huge grin.

Damnit! Nothing was going on between Kanna and Maria! Of course, Kanna blushing like this was doing nothing to convince anyone of that fact. Kanna grumpily dumped a huge armload of books onto a middle shelf and strode off to retrieve another from the desk where Reni and Kaede were putting them in the proper order.

Geez. Just because someone has a very close bond with a friend. Of course Kanna loved Maria, she's her best friend. And is it so wrong that someone's best friend can see that they're beautiful? Kanna isn't blind of course! And just because Kanna understands Maria better than just about anyone else, even when she understands her least? Just because Kanna can tell how alluring all the aspects of her best friend can be doesn't mean that sh—

Oh, for pity's sake… Kanna dropped a stack of books immediately after picking them up. "I'll… be back in a minute…." Kanna ran out to go throw cold water on her face, fiercely ignoring Orihime's knowing smirk.

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_Responses to Reviews:_

_Hesquidor: Shows what you know. My BIKE was abducted by world-travelling aliens. ;)_

_ Dillian: Well I'd been operating on the assumption that Maria was 9 when her family was exiled, but apparently she was much much younger. Most of her memory would be based on what her parents told her when she was older, but traumatic stuff sticks well in flashes._

_ Uchiha-chan: Drat. Hehehe... I was trying to be subtle. Yes, yes, a KxM, but it's my first slash, so this might be... hesitant. ;D  
_

_Hellcat666: Working on a Sumire one next! I relate best to Maria and they say write what you know ;) chains Maria in a dungeon! LOL, seriously, my favourite part about writing for Maria is how much she can overcome. And I admit some bits are autobiographical, and apparently subconscious, until I let a friend read the story and they say, "Hey... YOU did that...!"_

_The Watchers: Thank you for the review! Oops, I knew there's be a continuity error. I did get the information from a Stalin database, but it could have been an error. Hmmm... I will either fix the dates or just pretend history is different, depending on how old it makes the Hanagumi to do so. And I had not seen your story, but I will look for it now :) _


	4. The Ice Maiden

**SAKURA TAISEN/WARS** and all related characters, names and indicia are TM & © SEGA RED and are used here without permission.

_Author's Note: Please accept my deepest apologies for the exceedingly long delay in updating. My life has been blessedly chaotic lately with my actual job. But I miss the fun stuff! This really is in answer to three challenges, but I've only gotten to two of them, thusfar. The third will take several more chapters at least! And the fourth... I don't think I can work it in. But if it happens, whee :D_

_REPOSTED due to typos and a very correct reviewer's observation._

Rated PG-13, SHOUJO-AI WARNING (aka f/f)

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**To The Motherland**

"The Ice Maiden"

"Yeah?" Kanna called from inside her room, untaping her fists and letting the punching bag sway slowly to stillness behind her.

The door to her room creaked open just a sliver, then slowly a little further. A dark-haired head poked in, contritely. "Gomen-nasai, Kanna-san…" said a soft voice laced with an Italian dialect.

"Ah, don't worry about it," Kanna tossed the balled-up used tape to her rumpled bed. "Whatcha standin' out there for? Come in."

Orihime slipped inside, her head still lowered and her hands clasped before her, flattening the front of her voluminous red skirts. "I didn't realize it was…" Orihime stopped here and reformulated her apology. "I never would have made fun of you if I thought it was real."

"Huh?" Kanna plunked down on her bed, her elbows on her knees and her hands folded together between them. "Whaddayou mean 'real?'"

Orihime heaved a long sigh, as if it was part of her punishment to be this specific. "I… I just was making jokes… I never thought you and Maria actually… actually DO… that you two actually ARE in love," she said very quickly.

"What!" Kana stood up again, her ful height making Orihime recoil a couple of steps.

"I'm sorry, Kanna! I truly am! I never meant to hit so close to home! I thought they were all just rumours! I didn't know it would hurt you like that! I…" A dawning came over Orihime as she watched the confused expression across Kanna's face. "Wait…" Orihime looked even more contrite, if that was possible. "Maria-san doesn't know… does she?"

"Doesn't know WHAT?" Kanna threw her hands up. "There is NOTHING going on!"

"Because you haven't told her yet…"

"Orihime! Look. It IS all just a rumour because there is NOTHING going on, and I haven't told Maria anything because there is NOTHING to tell her! Got it?"

Orihime stared blankly at Kanna for a moment after that declaration, trying to sort out what she really meant. "If… if you say so, Kanna-san…"

"Orihime, look…" Kanna took the Italian girl by the shoulders, gently, confidentially. "Maria is my best friend, all right? We joined the Hanagumi together. We're the two oldest, and two of the three first members. I trust her, and she actually trust me back sometimes. Even the coldest person needs a confidant every once in a while. And that's all. Really."

Kanna kept her held by the shoulders for a moment longer, looking directly into her eyes, as if she could send the truth like beams into Orihime's mind and convince her. "Do you believe me?"

"Hai, Kanna-san…" Orihime whispered, sorry all over again for all new reasons. "I won't make fun of you anymore."

"Bah!" Kanna grinned and straightened, whapping Orihime on the shoulder hard enough to make the girl stagger. "You wouldn't be you if you didn't do that. Besides, you make me miss Sumire less."

"Er… thanks…" Orihime smiled uncertainly and rubbed her shoulder where Kanna had struck her.

* * *

Kanna only hesitated for a moment before she knocked softly on Maria's door. There was no answer. "Maria? It's me…" she spoke softly through the door, then rapped again with the back of her knuckles. "You there?"

Then the Okinawan seemed to summon courage from somewhere, and opened Maria's door. Slowly, as not to draw the aim of a particular .38. Maria was indeed inside. But if she was aware of Kanna's presence, she showed no sign. This was the second time today Kanna had found Maria so lost in thought that she did not know what was going on around her. And frankly, that worried Kanna.

Maria's back was to the door. She was standing at her window, watching the gathering twilight over Tokyo, as the lights of the city flared to life along with the lights of the night sky. Her locket was closed in her left fist. Kanna had not seen her like this in years. The martial artist knew her best friend so well that it was almost as clear to her what was going on in Maria's head as if Kanna had stepped into her world.

Kanna shivered. She could almost hear the dry, brittle whistle of the wind, almost see the whirling snow, almost feel the heavy depth of winter slowing her legs, stopping all progress, almost. But Maria was currently as lost in it as she had been when she came to them from New York so many years ago.

A suitcase was set out on her bed and several small stacks of clothing were laid next to it. The letter from Stalin's secret police was on her pillow, its seemingly nonsensical typewritten Cyrillic letters bearing, Kanna was certain, some mysterious threat.

Maria's situation was perfect. An exile from Russia in a position of knowledge and power in Japan. Her cooperation would earn her a pardon. Her disobedience… Kanna didn't want to think about what might happen to Maria if she didn't do what Stalin's regime commanded. Death might be the nicest part.

They knew everything. Chances were they had even gotten to Valentinov, if they were seeking out former Revolutionaries. Hell, Valentinov had already helped them do away with some unwanted opposition once… specifically the man in Maria's locket. Kanna'd had the feeling that Maria would live to regret sparing his life a second time. …not that Kanna would have done any differently in her place. Kanna herself had gone to avenge her father and stopped short of killing as well.

They knew about the New York Mafia. They knew about her position in the Hanagumi in Japan. They knew about her performances on the Imperial Opera Theatre's stage. They knew her whole past. Every bit.

What they did not know might be what would spare her. They didn't know her friends. They didn't know how devoted they were, and they didn't know that her friends would stop at nothing to save her from what she was about to become.

She would become a traitor to Japan, a Russian spy within the Hanagumi -- no, Maria could never do such a thing… could she? She had almost become an assassin in New York -- but that was all in the past, right? Or did Josef Stalin just dredge Maria Tachibana's past back up again?

"…Maria?"

The Russian whirled around, her icy green eyes wide, and reached under her left arm for her revolver.

…which wasn't there. It, and its shoulder holster, were laid out on her bed near her suitcase.

Her right hand dropped, empty, and her left hand withdrew from her unbuttoned shirt collar where she had just tucked away her locket. Her jaw was slower to unclench than her fists. She exhaled slowly through her nose, her eyes locked with Kanna's, expressionlessly. She said nothing.

Kanna's gaze quailed under the weight of the Russian's and drifted to stare at the waiting suitcase. "You can't really be considering leaving, can ya?"

Maria turned back to her dresser to resume, presumably, where she had left off in packing. She returned with a pair of folded pants and set them on the bed. "I told you, I have no choice," Maria said, her voice soft, flat, dead.

Kanna suddenly got the feeling the letter had a few particular details in it that Maria had left out of her summary. "Yes, you do, Maria. We fight demons all the time - these are only men--"

"Men are more dangerous than demons."

"Maria, come on, we can fight these guys. Let them just TRY to come for you! ONE Koubu and th--"

"No."

It was a tone which would brook no argument. Kanna knew she must have her reasons, she just wished she would share what they were. "Why won't you let us try to save you, Maria?" Kanna asked, the tone of her voice revealing a little of the hurt the tall redhead was feeling.

Maria ignored her, her back turned as she set things into her suitcase.

"When are they coming?" Kanna persisted despite being ignored. "Do you even know? Will you tell anyone, or will you just… disappear one night?" Then Kanna's voice dropped to the sad little whisper of a small girl. "Will you even say goodbye?"

Maria stopped, her shoulders stiffened. She lowered her head and buried her face in her hands. She drew a long, controlled breath and held it.

Kanna did not relent. "We've known each other since we were 19 years old, Maria, doesn't that mean anything? Don't you trust me? After all this time, you would still just walk away in the night, like you did to the Mafia and to the Revolutionaries when--"

The deadly glint in Maria's eyes when she turned to face Kanna was so terrifying, so unprecedented, that Kanna fell back a pace in fear. "Get out," Maria whispered almost inaudibly. Her fists were clenched so tightly that they were trembling, but she made no move either toward or away from Kanna.

Kanna turned toward the door. But instead of opening it, she locked it, took the key out and dropped it into the front of her shirt. Then she turned around, leaned her back against the door and folded her arms. "No. I care about you too much to let you do this."

Maria's brows shot up in what Kanna was sure was a reaction to unexpected insubordination. As Captain again since Ohgami's most recent departure for Paris, Maria was in no way disillusioned enough to expect to have absolute control over her soldiers. But she did expect, at the very least, to be left alone when she chose to be alone.

Well, if Kanna was going to be insubordinate, she'd better take charge. She strode back toward Maria's bed and snatched up her Enfield before Maria could realize what she was doing. Maria gasped in stun and reached for her revolver, but Kanna caught her wrist -- and Kanna was easily twice as strong as Maria was.

"What else did the letter say?" Using her thumb, Kanna triggered the breach of the revolver and it fell open at the cartridge. She dumped six bullets out of their chambers and onto Maria's black and gray jacquard beadspread. Still holding Maria's wrist, she tossed the breached gun across the floor.

"Kanna! What in hell do you think you're doing?" She yanked fruitlessly at her wrist. "Do you honestly think I would shoot you?"

"I had hoped not, no. But I also never thought I'd find you packing your bags to become a traintor to the Hanagumi and to my country. So now I'm not so sure."

"I've told you a dozen times, Kanna, I have no choice!"

"And I think that's utter crap. We're a team! You don't operate alone, and I don't see that you're backed up against a wall, here. What did they threaten you with, Maria?"

"This is not a Hanagumi operation. This is a private--"

"Maria. What was the threat?"

The Russian did not answer. It would almost appear that she was about to punch Kanna in the chin if it weren't for Kanna's hand gripped tightly around her wrist. Maria glared over her clenched and restrained fist at the slightly taller woman. She gave no answer, but her anger was weakening. Maria was too tired, too resigned, too well-hidden to be angry. Her green eyes dropped away from Kanna's gold ones.

"What was the threat?"

"Please leave me alone, Kanna…" it was a weary plea, to be sure. "Please…"

"I can't," Kanna's voice softened, too,and when Maria looked back up at her, she shrugged. "I dunno. I just can't."

Maria regarded her silently, then, and unblinkingly. She would give Kanna no more, but she lacked the energy and anger for a fight that would drive the Okinawan away.

Kanna could hear the wind again, then, a low, hollow moan, dead and empty, surrounding her best friend. Kanna fought it, feeling the fire of her strength warming her hand around Maria's wrist, even as she imagined that Maria's skin was growing colder. Kanna could almost see the drifts of snow sweeping up around Maria's boots, freezing her in place, making it impossible for her to move either forward or back.

Kanna was losing her. The ice maiden ironically known as Kazuar was returning. She could practically see an intricate frost crawl over her emerald green eyes. Her spirit was drying, frozen to death by a winter of necessity. Emotions neatly packed away and set aside, ties carefully and surgically snipped, memories sent on their way with a practiced, indifferent farewell.

The ice didn't seem to mind the silence, but fire cannot stand still. And flame-red-headed Kanna knew one thing: she would not lose her best friend.

Kanna realized when she felt Maria's jolt of surprise that she was kissing her. She could not recall telling herself to kiss Maria. She could not recall the thought ever occurring to her as something she should possibly do. Maria's impulse to draw breath to protest was thwarted by Kanna's mouth. Maria's half-hearted attempt to push Kanna away won her a freed right hand, but then the Russian was immediately enfolded in very strong arms. Kanna's arm was wrapped around Maria's waist, and her other hand held the back of Maria's head.

What the HELL was she doing! It was too late to change her mind, too late to surrender to being subordinate again. She'd taken control, and like a Siberian wolf, to give it up now would be to lose it forever. Maria was stiff in Kanna's arms, her mouth tense against Kanna's lips, her fists gripping Kanna's sleeves, either pulling or pushing, she could not be sure. Kanna did not release her, did not let her breathe, until she felt Maria shudder, felt her muscles uncoil. Then she broke the kiss and held the shivering Russian tightly in her arms, feeling a cool dampness against her neck where Maria buried her face, hiding against the very person she was hiding from.

"I am NOT letting you go," Kanna whispered, emphatically, to her silently weeping prisoner. "Like it or not."

* * *


	5. Orange Blossom Soap

**SAKURA TAISEN/WARS** and all related characters, names and indicia are TM & © SEGA RED and are used here without permission.

_REPOSTED due to typos and bad French dialect ;D_

Rated PG-13, SHOUJO-AI WARNING (aka f/f)

* * *

**To The Motherland**

"Orange Blossom Soap"

There was nothing at all unusual about Maria missing breakfast.

But it was a half an hour past the usual meal time and Kanna had not yet appeared, which, Reni believed, was the first sign of the Apocolypse in several religions. The diminutive German exchanged a glance with Sakura, whose eyes were as legible as ever. She was also worried.

"You try the gym, I'll check her room," Reni said to her as they returned their teacups to the counter. Iris and Kohran were taking care fo the dishes. Orihime relieved Iris of her duty and threw a quick glance at Reni. Reni nodded once in acknowledgement of something undoubtedly regarding Kanna and feeling guilty, and then she and the swordswoman headed off in different directions.

But it was Iris who found her, and she hadn't even been looking. In recent years, Iris had become quite a competent swimmer, and she practiced most mornings after breakfast. Jean-Paul was a childhood memory, but her yellow-gold hair still hung in shining waves to her shoulders. She was tying it up, an elastic in her teeth, when she spotted Kanna, loitering restlessly in the windowless corridor which spanned the subterranean distance between the pool and the shooting range.

"Kanna? What--" A muffled _crack_ drew the attention of both young women, and taught them that the firing range was currently in use. Doubtlessly by Maria. Iris turned back to Kanna. "What are you doing here? You missed breakfast."

"I did? I mean, uh… yeah. I did. I know. I, uh…"

"Are you waiting for Maria?" Iris finished rendering a ponytail and shoved her hands into the pockets of her white sweatpants. Her mint-green swimsuit was visible from the waist up, and her feet were bare.

"Uh, yeah. Makin' sure she eats, ya know?"

"_Merci, mon ami_," Iris smiled. "She had a nightmare again last night. This is two nights in a row, after so many years free of them."

"H-how do you know what happened to Maria last night?" Kanna grinned to cover the note of alarm in her voice.

Iris winked and tapped her temple with a manicured fingernail. "I have always had a way of knowing these things!" With that, Iris turned and pushed through the door to the pool.

* * *

It was just before Kanna heard the door to the shooting range open that she realized she hadn't heard a gunshot in a while. "_Baka_!" she whispered to herself and ducked into the nearest hiding place: the locker room that was between the pool and the range. And by doing so, she'd just successfully cornered herself. She harbored no false hopes that Maria was not headed here next. Kanna had been tailing her, unseen, all morning, and Maria had a routine. After nearly a decade of living under the same (albeit huge) roof, Kanna knew the routines of just about all the members of the Hanagumi, and Maria was the strictest creature of habit.

Iris' street clothes and toiletries were set neatly on a bench, presumably laid there before breakfast. Kanna cast around and slipped behind a row of wooden cabinets full of towels, washcloths, soaps, robes and mats.

She decided too late that this was a poor choice of hiding places. Before she could relocate, she heard the rhythmic tap of the heels of Maria's boots on the tile floor.

Kanna was trapped. The door into the locker room was clear on the other side. The sinks and mirrors, the lockers and counters and showers, and Maria, all stood between Kanna and escape.

Like cornered prey, Kanna listened. The metallic click of a buckle. The slither of leather over cotton, the solid, weighty thump of leather-sheathed metal onto the countertop, accompanied by the muffled clatter of molded leather and metal buckles. Well, at least now, if Maria caught her, Kanna knew she would be without her revolver.

Kanna chuckled inwardly as she found herself literally waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maria's boots clomped emptily to the tile floor. She heard Maria breathe a sigh and heard the old, loose wooden bench creak as she sat down on it. The sound of the movement of soft cloth followed, and then the padding of bare feet across tile, diminishing toward the three glass-doored shower stalls.

Hope of slipping out while Maria was showering was slim. Even if she turned the water hot enough to fog the glass of the door, she was still likely to see Kanna. Maria and Kanna were both head and shoulders taller than the glass doors on the shower stalls.

_Well, why shouldn't I be in here, _the redhead thought as she heard the sputtering hiss of water begin. This was, after all, a common shower room. Except Maria would wonder what Kanna had been doing so far, skulking around silently behind the cabinets. Besides, Maria wasn't exactly top on Kanna's list of people to see this morning - despite the fact that she'd been following the Russian since she woke up. She had to make sure Maria didn't run off or get jumped by a bunch of scary secret policemen.

But, by the same token, she wasn't ready to face Maria yet, either. Last night did not go precisely as Kanna had planned. Which wasn't the least bit surprising, considering that Kanna hadn't planned last night at all, and was still rather shocked at herself. Well, she had to do _something_ to get Maria to make an emotional reaction.

Last night, after Kanna had embraced her, Maria had pulled herself together, firmly disentangled herself, turned her back and whispered, "Good night, Kanna," while smearing tears from her cheeks with the heel of her palm. Kanna had tried to set things back in order, but the markswoman's icy and distant whisper of "Please don't touch me again" had struck Kanna harder than one of Maria's bullets could have. She let herself out after an unacknowledged apology.

The splattering sounds of an obstructed water spray brought Kanna back to the present. Suddenly, the thought of Maria just around the corner in the shower had an utterly new connotation to it than it ever had before, and it made the Okinawan blush. She tried to ignore the familiar sounds, the dull clunk of a bar of soap being returned to its porcelain dish, the slick sound of water being smoothed out of short hair, the heavy, hollow sigh of as much relaxation as something as trivial as warm water could offer.

Then Kanna caught the scent. Maria's soap. Lilacs or lilies or powder, or all three. For years it had just been the way Maria Tachibana smelled. Now, for some reason, the same smell conjured something completely different. Now, it was the way Maria Tachibana's hair smelled against Kanna's cheek as she pressed the trembling markswoman's head to her supporting shoulder.

Orange blossom. That was it.

_Good grief, Orihime was right…!_

This thought was so distracting that Kanna didn't notice the absence of the sound of running water until she saw movement. The end cabinet stood open, barring Kanna's view of most of naked, wet Maria. Pale, water-beaded feet and ankles stood on tip-toe in a growing puddle of orange-blossom-scented water in front of the open closet door as Maria reached on a top shelf for something inside.

_Oh god--_

Maria must have opened the cabinet just as she rounded the corner. Obviously, she hadn't seen Kanna. Kanna flattened her back against the cabinets, keeping the open door between them, and held her breath. She was only an arm's length from Maria now.

And a cabinet door behind Kanna which had been slightly ajar thudded closed as she leaned on it.

Maria's cabinet door slammed closed, a large, unfurled bath towel clutched protectively against her breast, her eyes wide, brows furrowed. The edge of her towel trailed soppingly in the puddle at her feet.

"_KANNA!_" she hissed.

"Oh, uh, hey, Maria…" Kanna wiggled her fingers in greeting to the Russian whose face was flushed red from the hot shower, or from anger, or from embarrassment. Likely all of the foregoing.

"What are you _doing_?" Maria demanded.

Kanna's mind came to a rapid boil of ideas and possible lies, each as unlikely as the last, and finally she sighed, settling on the truth. "I was following you. I don't want any Russian secret police conking you on the head and running off with ya."

Maria's jaw tightened, her lips thin and white in fury. "They aren't going to kidnap me, Kanna."

"Yeah, well, I didn't want you running off to join them, either. And I was worried. I mean, I was gonna leave you alone, but… Iris said you been having nightmares."

Maria lowered her head, securing her towel around her, and made no answer.

And in that silence is when they heard the drip of water too near to them to be from the shower stalls.

The two women turned to find Iris standing just inside the locker room door, dripping from her swim, and ashen-faced from what she'd just overheard. "Russian… Secret… Police…?"

Maria closed her eyes and covered them with her hands.

* * *

"We _have_ to tell Yoneda!" Iris whispered urgently from her seat on the wooden bench. A large bath towel was draped over her legs like a lap blanket. She was leaning forward toward Kanna in her desperation. Kanna was sitting across from Iris and had run both hands into her disorderly mop of red hair.

"We can't," Kanna said through gritted teeth.

"Why not!" Iris directed her panicked question to Maria, who was pacing back and forth across the tile, clad in a white terrycloth robe scavenged from the cabinet which had given away Kanna's hiding place. Her hair, unbrushed, had begun to dry in its own choice of clumps, twists and waves, a bedraggled condition in which Maria never allowed herself to be seen, if she could help it.

"You wouldn't understand," Maria whispered, still pacing.

"Since I never knew you when _you_ were a child," Iris bristled, "if you ever _were_ one, I am guessing you haven't noticed that_ I _am not one any longer, either."

Maria halted, mid-pace. "You are right. I am sorry, Iris." The Russian turned to face the young Frenchwoman, sighing in contrition. "The more of you who know about it, the more of you who are in danger."

"We are in danger every day of our lives, Maria-san, when we are out there fighting th--"

"I have already had this discussion with Kanna," Maria interrupted in disgust. "Can I trust you two to keep my secret or no?"

"Some secrets aren't meant to be kept, Maria-san…" Iris said, suddenly gently. "How will you stop us from going to General Yoneda?"

For a long moment, she simply studied Iris. Maria seemed far less intimidating without a perfectly groomed swath of blonde hair curtaining her eyes from close inspection, without the triple rank ropes of gold draping from her epaulets, without her sharply pressed deep black uniform coat, without her well-worn-in leather shoulder holster and without the murky dark gleam of the metal of her Enfield revolver. Instead, Maria looked tired. Older. Defeated.

"I cannot stop you," she finally replied. "No more than you can stop me." And Maria began gathering her things from the bench.

"Wait! Maria!" Kanna lurched to her feet and grabbed Maria's thick-terrycloth-clad arm. "Please don't. Don't leave like this. Please. Let's just… let's wait. We won't go to Yoneda, I swear it. I promise." Kanna held up her right palm, open, in a vow. "Just… let's just think, for the afternoon, okay? Don't go anywhere. Meet us in the library before dinner and we'll figure something out. Okay, Maria? We won't tell, we swear." Iris nodded vehemently along with Kanna's declarations. "Okay?"

Maria looked from Kanna to Iris and back, studying both their sincere faces. Her two oldest friends, willing to risk their lives for her. She exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and her shoulders slumped. She nodded.

And lied to them.

* * *


	6. With These Hands

**SAKURA TAISEN/WARS** and all related characters, names and indicia are TM & (C) SEGA RED and are used here without permission.

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: This 'flashback' chapter is specifically in answer to one of the four challenges addressed in this story. In the novel, Hiroi states that Maria "sold herself" to the Revolutionaries in order to survive, but does not explain what he means by that - I will try to fill in the blank hopefully at least to the partial satisfaction of the beloved reviewer who requested it!_

Rated: PG

* * *

"With These Hands"

She didn't plan on packing much. She had travelled lightly all her life and was accustmed to moving quickly and leaving little trace. But she'd grown comfortable over the past years, found a place where she belonged. She did not even want to think about leaving, but what choice did she have? Maria couldn't explain the whole letter to them. They already knew more than the letter's threats permitted anyone to know. If she explained fully, someone could die before she could get there to prevent it. Someone who means far too much to Maria to allow that to happen.

She didn't want to leave, and she didn't want to lie. There would be forgiveness later, perhaps, if they ever discovered the full truth. But for now, she needed to get to the harbour before midnight. A wired message to Paris would be swift, and Maria hoped she could outrun it.

She yanked the drawstring on her duffel and looked out her window into the courtyard of the Imperial Opera Theatre. If she left, the Hanagumi would hate her. If she stayed, she would be granted the reprisal of a nightmare that was suddenly haunting her again.

She promised Ohgami she was no killer, that she would never again kill another human being, that her days as a soldier were over, that her prospects to become an assassin with the New York Mafia were behind her. She proved it by sparing Valentinov's life. But now was one of those times she wished he'd just fall off a cliff and stop tormenting her.

* * *

The hospitality of the nearby Russian exiles in Siberia only extended so far. Not because they lacked the generosity or the concern for their fellow exiles, but they simply lacked the means to care for every straggler. Pneumonia had seized and claimed a great many this past winter, including Suma Tachibana and Bryusov Dimitrovich. June brought a modicum of warmth, relief and respite for the survivors, a chance to bury the dead - those which had not been burned for fear of contamination - and a chance for the sun to ease away grief.

June 19, 1913 was a particularly warm day, comparatively. Maria wanted it to be joyful, but her father had died three months ago, and her mother six months before that. She was ten years old today, and alone. She had been sheltered by another family for a short while, but she was learning quickly that they could scarcely manage to care for themselves and their own children, let alone an additional child who did little more than silently carry out whatever chores were necessary and spend evenings in a corner, staring out a window.

Maria Tachibana had not wept. At least, not that anyone had seen.

Her mother's body had been burned, having died at the beginning of a deep freeze. But her father was buried, his passing occurring in a rare thaw that permitted the earth to receive him.

The change in Maria was first noticed as she stood and watched her mother's pyre. The flames reflected in her frozen green eyes, but no tears came. And she was the first to toss a fistful of dirt into her father's shallow grave, the pebbles clattering atop the wooden box that contained the last thing she valued in the world.

The family sheltering her would not turn her out, mercy forbade it. But they could not manage to sustain her, either. In Maria's almost continual silence since her parents' deaths, she became excellent at observation. She could understand what was going on around her, almost as if she was suddenly a new person, as if she had understood immediately that no one would now have responsibility for her other than herself, and she must become instantly aware of her surroundings.

Understanding was the first step. Imagining how to solve the problem was quite another.

In the space of a month's time, Maria had her answer. She was staying with a different family now in an attempt to ease the burden on the first, and her silence had deepened, grown ominous, and become a matter of concern to the adults in her commune.

"She is mad," they deduced, "the poor girl has lost everything. She will not survive the winter."

She stood at her father's gravestone in silence as Autumn sighed its last breath, and snowflakes created a layer atop the icy granite marked with the fallen and disfavoured diplomat's name.

Captain Yuri Nikolayevich's voice startled the girl. "Your father was a great man," he said.

Maria flinched and turned slowly, her lifeless gaze settling on the stranger.

"If you ever wish to learn to live your life with the sort of courage your father had, come and find me."

He tipped his head to her, his darkened glasses obscuring his gaze, and he turned and walked away, his deep, heavy footprints marking a path in the snow that Maria would not follow yet.

* * *

As winter began to set in, Maria did not wait to be passed along to another family when the strain on this one became too great. As silently as she had come, she gathered the very few things she could call her own and left. The icy wind did not seem to perturb her, and if she shivered, she forced herself to be calm and the Winter seep into her veins and become part of her. 

If she was to survive on her own, she needed to become useful to someone. Some shop, some tradesman, some traveller, someone must need an able-bodied helper. The marketplace was in view before noon of the first day she'd left. She would not be looked for. She would be wished well, but no one could spare the time nor resources to seek a girl not their own who'd wandered off.

The tavern was the third place to decline Maria's offer for help, but managed to donate a heel of bread to her. She remained indoors for as long as she could excuse it, picking slowly at the bread to postpone her return to the oncoming winter outside. A pair of raggedly dressed men sat at a table in the corner, their Ukranian dialects familiar. Their clothing was tattered, but identical. Makeshift uniforms. Soldiers. No, Revolutionaries. Siberia was not far enough away to miss news of the unrest under the Czar's rule, not even for a ten year old girl.

Maria did what she had become expert at in the past year: listened. A small number of the Volga Third Regiment was here, gathering support, under Captain Nikolayevich. That name caught Maria's attention further. Surely the Revolutionaries could spare food and shelter for someone able to carry water and ammunitions. She would ask no pay, but barter herself to the Revolutionaries for her survival. Besides, the Captain had offered her his assistance very recently.

So the cold and disturbingly silent girl followed the Revolutionaries that evening, at a distance enough that they neither noticed nor cared.

A snowy field was dotted with two dozen tents and makeshift structures. Columns of smoke rose from a dozen locations among them. Maria picked the largest tent, a conglomeration of canvas and wood that was nearly a cabin but for its temporary and portable nature, and headed straight toward it, certain to find the Captain inside.

She did not find him. Inside, three unfamiliar faces turned immediately toward her, and two rifles cocked, then immediately lifted up, recognizing a small child, and returned to their posts just outside the tent door. The third, a soldier seated at the table inside, lifted a curious brow. A young man of perhaps no more than fifteen, he donned his most authoritative air and stood. "Who goes there?"

Already remarkably tall, Maria pulled her fur hat from her head slowly, disarraying her short blonde hair, and clutched it in mittened hands. "Maria Tachibana, daughter of Bryusov Dimitrovich, sir."

"What do you want?" the young man persisted, either unimpressed by her father's name, or unaware of what the name meant.

"I am seeking Captain Nikolayevich."

"He isn't here."

"I can see that." Ice-fire flashed in her green eyes.

"What do you want with him?"

"I wish to barter my aid to the Revolution."

"Barter? Your aid?" the soldier looked highly amused. "You're a girl."

"Yes, I am aware of that. I have been one all my life."

The soldier's expression darkened at her sarcasm. "Girls are for mending, cooking and dalliance, not for the Revolution."

"The Captain sent for me himself," Maria's tone sharpened even further at his derision.

At this, the soldier laughed. "Sure he did. And I'm Czar Nicholas."

"Is this the Captain's tent or not?"

"It is. And I am one of his aides. And he is not here." The soldier took an imperious step towards her. "What sort of aid do you think you can offer to the Revolutionaries?"

Maria was fully as tall as the boy, and looked him in the eyes with unrufflable calm. "I am strong and able. I can carry, mend, cook and build... and even fight," she added almost more softly, knowing it was the most ridiculous of her suggestions thusfar.

"And that's all?" the soldier stepped closer again, too close. Maria backed up a step.

"I can do anything a man can do," she said, a slight quaver in her voice, and stepped back again when the soldier advanced.

"A bit more than a man can do, I would say," he pressed forward again and Maria found her back against the center wooden support beam for the tent. He touched her hair and she froze, panic warring with fury. He closed his fingers into the back of her hair and leaned close to her.

"What in the name of God are you doing!" bellowed a voice that made the soldier jump and snap to attention.

Captain Yuri-Mikhail Nikolayevich stood in the flapping tent doorway. He tore his dark glasses from his face and his coal brown eyes burned with rage.

"Captain, it is nothing! Just a girl who is selling herself to the soldiers!" the boy attempted to explain.

"She is _what_?" Yuri's shock was directed now at Maria.

"I am bartering my services to the Revolutionaries, Captain, accepting your offer... if it still stands."

"Of course it stands, Miss Dimitrovich. Sergeant. Get out."

"But, sir--"

Yuri covered the distance between the door and the soldier in two swift strides, catching him up by a fistful of the back of his coat collar, scruffing him like a disobedient kitten. "This is the daughter of one of the Ukraine's great diplomats. Her father was a great man, outspoken against the Czar, exiled and deceased. She is under my protection. Touch her again and your hand comes off." He tossed the soldier out the tent door into the cold.

The words 'thank you' did not seem sufficient, so Maria let the silence grow, her eyes not quite so frozen as they studied Yuri-Mikhail Nikolayevich. He was seventeen or eighteen, Maria guessed, and something about him made her heart hurt a little less. It was Yuri who broke the silence. "Of course my offer still stands. But your first task is to learn to defend _yourself_ from situations like that one. You will be the only female in my regiment, and I cannot be always at your side. My men are good for the most part, but we are Revolutionaries. We lack the discipline of a sanctioned army. We make up for it in passion, which may be dangerous for you. You were a girl when you came in through that door, but I must make you a soldier as quickly as possible. Will you give all this, Dimitrovich? Does your heart lie where your father's did? Or with your father in his grave?"

She let a long moment of silence pass, allowing the sounds of the wind flapping the canvas and whistling through wooden cracks to penetrate. "My name is Maria _Tachibana_, and my heart is my own. But my hands are yours to command."

Yuri evaluated that for a moment, then nodded once. "Then we'd best start by putting a rifle in them."

* * *

_Responses to Reviews:_

_Uchiha-chan - I'm... speechless. You do me FAR too much honour, and I would be very pleased to contact you regarding your community when I am back in town again (I am out of town on an audition tour at the moment)._

_ Hesquidor - Yes, you're quite right, it irritates me too, I fixed it. Basing her speech on the pattern of her English dub-over actress was a poor choice. _

_Dillian - Thank you as always ;) Sad, isn't it, that my proudest moment of the past three chapters is a soap clunk? LOL_

_ Kyanite - I am sorry to leave you hanging even longer! I will get you a rope ;) I have hinted here, but I don't plan to reveal the letter's threats for a little while, yet!_

_ Kazuar - sorry look My sincerest apologies, but she has to go! If she doesn't, something far more terrible would happen. Well, perhaps not in your opinion ;)  
_


	7. The Threat

SAKURA TAISEN/WARS and all related characters, names and indicia are TM & © 2005 SEGA RED, and are used here without permission.

Rated PG

**

* * *

The Threat**

It was several hours past midnight, but Ohgami was not tired in the least. He looked very dapper, for a change in a formal suit rather than his military uniform. He smiled across the café table at his companion for this very late dinner.

"I cannot tell you how good it was to see you, and how wonderful you were."

The beautiful Japanese woman blushed delicately and set down her wineglass. "Chuui…" she murmured. "You are still over-flattering to me."

"Never, Sumire-san, you brought down the house."

Sumire picked up her fan for a moment, its light breeze ruffling her shoulder-length hair. "I could not turn down this one offer to sing in Paris, not when I knew it would afford me the opportunity to see you again. How are your new girls doing?"

Ohgami cleared his throat and covered his momentary silence by putting his napkin to his mouth and then laying it back on his lap. "They… are passionate… but…"

Sumire lifted a thin brow.

He sighed. "They are driving me crazy, Sumire."

"_O-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho!_ You forget, Chuui, we drove you crazy, too, at first!"

"Yes, but I had no desire to repeat the experience!" Ohgami laughed.

The waiter set the bill in front of Ohgami without a word, and left.

"I suppose it is late," Sumire conceded, and rose from her chair.

Ohgami stood when she did, laying money atop the bill and folding his wallet back into his pocket. "I will get you a taxi back to your hotel."

Sumire blushed in gratitude, preceding him toward the door when gestured to do so, her head bowed slightly in gratitude, and her fan sending a waft of lilacs toward him in her wake.

As they headed toward the door, three gentlemen at a table near the door were also leaving.

Ohgami lifted a hand to hail a cab when a voice from the restaurant door called, "Miss Kanzaki?" The voice was calm and foreign.

Sumire and Ohgami turned, Sumire's smile standard to her usual role of the gracious star of stage and screen, acknowledging her adoring audience.

"A wonderful performance, tonight," the man said, flanked by his two companions. All three were dressed appropriately to have attended the concert at the Paris Opera. And they were speaking in English.

"Why, thank you very much," Sumire handed her satin gloves, handbag, fan and bouquet of roses to Ohgami to accept the offered pen and program. "I simply could not resist the opportunity to visit such a charming city."

With Ohgami's hands full and Sumire's attention on the program, the other two gentlemen reached into their coats as well. But they did not pull programs from their pockets, the click and cocking of hammers gave that away.

Sumire looked up in shock. One gentleman was already removing her things from Ohgami's arms. Ohgami was keeping his hands where they could be seen, his narrowed gaze scrutinizing, but unable to find a course of action that would put neither his nor Sumire's life at risk.

"I would instruct you not to scream, Miss Kanzaki, if I didn't know you were more than just an actress. This cannot be an unusual tactical situation to you." His soft voice did not pass the small group of the five of them.

Then he turned his gaze to Ohgami. "Ichiro. Try anything heroic and she dies. You will both be getting into _this_ limosine."

A car door opened behind them.

"Turn around slowly," one of the two gunment spoke for the first time, his accent much thicker. And as Ohgami obeyed, he suddenly recognized the accent.

Russian.

Behind him was indeed a limosine, its suicide door open for them. The front of the car held the driver, and one of the two flanking men had gotten into the passenger seat. In the back, two bench seats faced each other. Ohgami and Sumire were gestured into the backward-facing seat, and the remaining two Russians got into the back, forward-facing seat and closed the door, guns still trained on their two hostages.

"Chuui…" Sumire murmured uncertainly.

Time was that they both would have made short work of these thugs. But Sumire's spirit powers had left her. Ohgami was unarmed and unprepared. And both had the feeling by the car, the suits and the efficiency, that these were no common thugs.

"What do you want with us?" Ohgami dared through fiercely controlled anger.

"Very little," answered the man now in possession of half of Sumire's autograph. "Consider yourselves… collateral."

"To catch a firebird," the man with the gun smirked.

* * *


End file.
